AN: I needed those couple of weeks off. Now here I am, with the chapter from hell, ready to please all and crush those I do not please.

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"Guarding the Trauma Ward sounded cooler at the briefing," Raz pouted.

Sasha shrugged, looking up from where he was psychically knitting something. Raz raised an eyebrow. When Milla suggested that the kids learn to knit, he'd never thought Sasha would take it up. But indeed, it seemed to have a profoundly relaxing effect on Agent Nein.

"Whatcha making?" Raz asked out of boredom. Soon his ten minute break would be over, and he would have to go up on that God-awful little platform to stare out at the vast wasteland of the camp and watch for bears, coughing and sneezing because dust tends to settle in the camp air this time of year.

Was it Monday? It felt like a Monday.

Back to Sasha's newfound knitting skills, he held up the sweater he'd made. It said 'Kiss me, I've been attacked by an unknown psychic entity'. Raz laughed. Sasha smirked evilly.

"You won't think it's funny if you're wearing it," Sasha said lightly. Then his face darkened and he glanced behind him.

Even a slightly intoxicated Sasha had problems denying the seriousness of the situation. Benny, Mikhail, Bobby, Milka, Lili, and now Clem were all knocked out cold. Crystal sat in something akin to rapture and horror next to Clem, while Raz visited Lili every break he got. She and Milka weren't beaten up as badly as the boys, but they still looked bad. Raz even conquered his dislike of water to put a cold washcloth on Lili's face.

What was worse, Vernon was now trying to evangelize everyone.

"Sasha," Vernon asked, waddling up to him in a white robe, "Do you have a moment to talk about the Lord?" Where he'd gotten a white robe, Sasha didn't know, but it looked weird on him.

"No."

"Sasha, the end is coming. The time of salvation is at hand. Come on, join in the prayer group before the evil demon God has sent to punish us takes your soul into the deepest pits of hell." Vernon paused. "Well, I lied, that's the cafeteria. But it'll still drag you to hell."

"You need therapy," Sasha said, idly finishing the trim of the sweater. "However, Agent Vodello might like to pray with you. Go annoy- talk, to her."

"God be praised," Vernon said in monotone before waddling away. Sasha shook his head in bemusement.

"OH MY GOD!"

There was a pause after the scream.

Then Raz said, "Sasha, that was Kitty."

"And?" Sasha was adding extra long sleeves to his sweater/straitjacket.

"And… if she dies, her dad will sue your whole family."

"Compelling," Sasha looked up as Milla glared down at him. "Fine. But come winter, Agent Vodello, you will buy me a new sweater."

"Okay, darling."

"One that is not pink."

"Damm," Milla said quietly. Then Vernon tugged on her sleeve, and she looked down. "Yes, darling? What is it?"

"Have you got a minute to talk about the Lord?"

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"This reminds me of Guam," Oleander said cheerfully as he and Agent Cruller marched through the campfire area. "Except without the gun fire. Did I ever tell you about how I won that war?"

"Yes, Morry, but-"

"Hot as hell, it was, with soldiers shooting their own comrades. Bombs everywhere, mosquitoes coming at me from all directions. Our defenses were down, and I knew I. Had. To take. The stand!" With each of these sentence fragments, he stomped his foot. This would have been very dramatic had a bear not decided to go poo poo in the middle of the road.

"Stay focused Agent Oleander, please," Ford begged. "That army may have needed you then, but we need you now!"

"Yes sir!"

They marched onward, Oleander's foot making a squishing noise with each step he took. The smell made Ford gag repeatedly and cough. Dear God, it was everywhere! The bears had gotten diarrhea from the ghostly energy, or something like that. Look, it's 2 am. The authoress really doesn't care anymore. The bears were scared of the evil spirit thing, okay? It's just that scary.

Meanwhile, away from my breaking of the fourth wall, the road and land in general was littered with poo. It looked spotted and vaguely artistic. In fact, there seemed to be a pattern to it. Morry realized this when he stepped knee deep into one. It came to him in a flash of inspiration, like a ligtbulb turning on or the meatloaf at my school flashing bright green for no verifiable reason.

"It spells something!" he told Ford excitedly. "This is how my troop used to leave messages for the Air Force-"

"I do not want to know," Ford said quickly, understandably disturbed. "Let's just get to higher ground so we can see it. I can't levitate," he gestured to the boulder on his back, "Or I'll turn into Ranger Cruller. You check it."

Boldly, nobly, amazingly, beautifully, smoothly, courageously, gallantly, marvelously, skillfully, efficiently, brashly, splendidly, incredibly, wonderfully, effortlessly, and with great gusto, Agent Oleander floated to the heavens, his anti gravity effects giving him the look of an angel. An angel with a moustache, glass eye, and poo-covered boots.

"The enemy is clever," he called down after a moment of observation. He drifted back to the ground. There was a look in his eyes, almost gleeful, that made Ford raise an eyebrow.

"Well, out with it, son," Ford prompted, not liking the twitch in Oleander's lips. It reminded him of Morry's 'troubled' times the year before.

"It spells… it says… you see, sir, sometimes the enemy leaves cryptic messages, and…" he trailed off, a few chuckles breaking through. Ford was not amused and gave him a stern look. Oleander straightened up instantly. "It spells 'Adolf', sir, and there's hearts all around the name."

Ford paused. "Adolf?"

"It's the Nazis! They've reformed and are attacking the Psychonauts in a bloody rage that will last a hundred years!" Oleander began to panic. "I knew this hour would come. World War Three is about to begin! Soon bombs will be going off-"

"Morceau-"

"…our food supply will run out-"

"Morry-"

"It's the end, I tell ya, the Nazis caught us off guard and now all is lost…"

"Agent Oleander!" Ford said with authority. Oleander shut up. "Adolf is Sasha's first name. Sasha's his middle one. He just doesn't like being called that. This being is clearly after Sasha. It's not a Nazi operation."

"Nein's first name is Adolf?" Oleander quirked an eyebrow. "What, were his parents Nazis?" Then his face lit up with understanding. "Oh, I see…"

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"Freeze, Nein!" Oleander yelled, throwing open the flap to the tent. Sasha looked up from where he had just finished tucking Kitty in. "You're under arrest, Nazi!"

"I'm not the only one who's been drinking," Sasha said mildly as Oleander levitated up to him. "And you do realize I could sue you for this?"

"I'm onto you, Nein!"

"You've finally realized my suits are not genuine Armani brand?"

"Yes! No! Wait, they're not?"

"Senior agents are paid well, but not that well," Sasha replied. "By the way, do you want your sweater to say Sergeant or Commander?"

"Commander. Now, what was I saying…"

Sasha smirked. "You were about to give me twenty dollars."

"Oh! Right. Here you are, Nein." Oleander handed the money over and then walked out of the tent, oblivious. Ford stared at him.

"What?"

"That's not genuine Armani?"